


Promise

by ambientbliss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Cutting, Depression, Derek Feels, M/M, Mates, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post Nogitsune, Scott is a Bad Friend, Self Harm, Stiles is Alone, The Sheriff's name is John and I'm not changing it, derek notices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambientbliss/pseuds/ambientbliss
Summary: The nogitsune broke Stiles. Everyone can see it, but it seems like those closest to him are ignoring it. The glue that held everyone together is barely able to hold himself together now. A certain Alpha steps in and tries to make things better, but in true Derek fashion seems to make it worse.





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> *UnBeta'd   
> * I do not own Teen Wolf or it's characters.
> 
> This piece is kind of a ramble. Sorry in advance.

After the Nogitsune had possessed him, Stiles was supposed to get better. Everything was supposed to get better. But it didn’t. Almost every night he would bolt up in bed, sometimes screaming, sometimes gasping. It seemed each night there was a different picture, but it was starting to become unbearable. His solution was just to not sleep. 

Honestly he was barely existing. His talking slowed, and when anyone asked he responded with being tired. It wasn’t a lie, so he didn’t have any of the wolves sensing something was wrong, not that they would be noticing anyway. 

Scott was wrapped up in Kira, constantly spending time with her and blowing off Stiles. And then there was Lydia. Sweet Lydia, the banshee whose mother took her on vacation. We all knew what it was, her mother was pulling her away to make sure she wasn’t insane like her grandmother. 

Stiles didn’t mind Lydia being gone. He thought he would, but it didn’t bother him at all. But that left him alone. All alone. The Sheriff was constantly working so there was no one at home either, so speaking was almost no longer necessary. 

It got to the point that after school Stiles would sit in his room and wait for someone to call him about some wolfy business. He eventually gave up looking at his phone because no call ever came. Scott had stopped asking him how he was doing all together, but he wasn’t surprised. Not with how much time he was spending with Kira.

It seemed like no one was noticing him. No one noticed the bruises of not sleeping unders his eyes, that he didn’t eat much of anything at lunch, or even that he said maybe 2 words throughout the entire school day. 

_They are probably relieved._ His voice rattled in his mind. Life was falling apart.

Stiles wasn’t sure when it happened, but one day it just stopped. The longing he felt for his friends, the irritation when Scott wouldn’t even look at him, the buzz of their conversations. It all just stopped mattering. He felt like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. 

He recognized the signs of this. This was depression, this was detachment. Instead of a numb feeling his body still ached. It ached every day since the Nogitsune spit him out on the floor of the McCall living room. He also couldn’t get warm enough. 

He may have felt like there was cotton in his ears, but that didn’t stop his thoughts from bouncing wall to wall in his mind. 

_The pack is better off without you._

It didn’t really hurt anymore to hear himself say it. He knew the Alpha hated him, that wasn’t new. Sure Scott was a true Alpha, but he wasn’t _the_ Alpha, he was the pseudo-alpha. Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised that the nightmares didn’t stop. He stopped caring about what his friends were doing, but apparently his mentality was still out to get him. Sleep now became out of the question. 

\-----

There were only a few days left in the school year, and Stiles didn’t have any homework or studying to do so he laid on his bed scanning the ceiling. He turned his head as he heard the buzz of his phone on the nightstand. 

**Pack Meeting: 8PM**

His calendar reminding him of the meeting that he didn’t intend to go to. They wouldn’t even miss him. The hours slipped by as Stiles stared up at the ceiling searching for patterns in the paint. He found a few, but nothing that kept his attention for long. His phone buzzed again, but this time it was his alarm. He needed to get up and go to school. 

“Two more days.” His voice rough as it passed through his chapped lips. 

He needed to shower. It didn’t take him long to clean himself up, brush his teeth, and shove a bit of gel through his hair. His cleanliness and typical appearance were the only things he didn’t abandon. Skipping breakfast he headed out the door to his Jeep to get to school. 

Stiles tensed a little when he shut his locker door and found Scott standing there, staring at him. 

“Yo, what’s up?” 

Trying to sound perfectly fine and healthy. Scott just looked at him for a few moments. He knew that the wolf was looking for a rise in his heartbeat, but since Stiles didn’t care anymore there was none. 

“Where were you last night? Pack meeting remember?” 

Scott sounded angry and Stiles wondered why the hell he cared now, but that wasn’t what he ended up saying. 

“I had a killer headache. Puking, all that jazz. I figured I would stay home as to not offend sensitive wolfy noses.” 

He made a wafting gesture with his hands. He knew it was a lie, and he was waiting for Scott to call him on it, but he didn’t. Then Stiles realized why. Kira was walking in their direction, but before she made it to him, Scott left Stiles at his locker and met her halfway. 

_Replacement… cool._ He huffed a little and headed to class, sure it stopped mattering but it still sucked to know. 

The next two days went by as usual, lack of talking, lack of eating, lack of sleeping. The only meal he had was with his dad in attempts to keep up the ‘I’m fine’ charade. But today Stiles was not fine. Usually he had something to distract him on this day, whether it was Scott, or something but not this time. He woke up and decided that he wasn’t going to do anything today, not a damn thing. Strike that… he needed to shower. 

After almost scalding himself in the hottest water that his house could provide he dressed himself as normal, brushed his teeth and ran gel into his hair. Keeping up with appearances, except for the slight red bruising around his eyes. It was how he remembered looking when they fought the Nogitsune. 

_Ugh, doomed to look like this forever apparently._ He trudged back to his room, flopping down face first on the bed. It wasn’t long before he heard a knock on the door jam. 

“Yeah dad?”

The Sheriff stood there in his uniform. Today was equally hard for him, but he found that working took his mind off of things for a while. 

“Hey, if you don’t want me to work I can stay home.” Stiles could hear the worry in his voice. 

“No dad, go to work. I’m just going to be lazy anyway. Maybe watch a movie.” He watched as his dad nodded, mumbling that he loves him the man walked back down the stairs and out to the cruiser. Stiles sighed deeply as he laid there on his bed. “I miss you mom.” 

 

He must have dozed off for a while, because he woke screaming. His body covered in a cold sweat. Quickly orienting himself like he was used to by now, he calmed. Checking his phone he wasn’t surprised to find that there were no messages. Not even from Scott, who usually sent him the ‘I hope you are doing okay today’ message. That hurt a little. A dull ache spread through his chest. 

_Scott had forgotten._ His thought was squashed when he saw the time. 

“Holy shit.” It was 6pm. The Sheriff would be on his way home. 

Shaking the leftover memory of the nightmare from his head, Stiles headed downstairs to start making dinner for them. He may not care about himself anymore, but he cared about his father eating the right things. John grumbled about all the vegetables on his plate, but Stiles didn’t pay any attention to it. He washed up after dinner, and joined his dad in the living room to watch something on T.V. He couldn’t even remember what they had been watching when he heard his dad snore a little. Turning to look, he let out a heavy sigh. 

_Again?_ John sat there in his recliner, a bottle of Jack sitting next to him, over half empty. Stiles knew it had been close to full earlier. “Okay, come on dad.” 

The teen helped his dad up, and walked him to his bedroom on the first floor. After tucking him in and placing water at the nightstand Stiles continued out into the living room in an attempt to clean up the leftover of his father’s sorrow. He stored the bottle in its rightful place, then headed toward the kitchen with the glass tripping and falling on the way. 

_So fucking graceful!_

His mind spat at him, realizing he shattered the glass. A warm feeling stretched along his thumb. Looking down he found that there was a long cut from his thumb to the base of his palm. 

_Huh._

Paying it no more attention he cleaned up the glass and headed for his bathroom upstairs for the first aid kit. 

Warmth was pooling in his hand, he checked to see how much he had bled but there was not much there. Not enough to cause that heat in his palm. Dabbing it with peroxide sent a searing burn all the way to his toes. 

“Wow.” Stiles relaxed under the burn. He felt warm, he felt… good. Curiosity peaked. 

_Test the theory Stiles._

He found a small box of razor blade replacements from his dad’s razor. His slender fingers pulled a blade from the box and studied it as the light in the bathroom shinned from the surface. Without hesitation he drug the blade across the surface of his left wrist. As soon as red slipped from the separation in his skin, Stiles’ body relaxed as the warmth and relief washed over him. 

Stumbling backward under the weight of the warmth he slid to the floor resting his arm on his bent knees. Tears pricked that back of his eyes, the relief was almost too much. The pain of missing his mom spilled over and he couldn’t stop the sob that tore through his chest. Without even thinking Stiles dug the blade back into his arm, relishing in the warmth. 

The ache he felt from the Nogitsune was stalled, and he liked it. He sat on the cold tile floor longer than he realized. The tears were drying and so was the blood that covered his wrist. With bated breath he stood and cleaned himself and the blade up, slapping a bandage on his arm then exiting the bathroom only to flop down on his bed. There was still no sleeping, but he felt a little better.

\--------

For Stiles the days and nights blurred together. There was no real separation between them, but he had something to look forward to. Everytime he felt on edge, a nightmare woke him, or he was panicking he would bask in the warmth that the blade running across his skin brought. After analyzing his first few cuts, they seemed to be scarring over slightly, which pulled him deeper into a depression knowing that those blissful moments were gone. 

The Sheriff started pestering him about being at home alone all the time. The questions rose. Where was Scott, did they fight, what was going on with the pack? Stiles didn’t want his dad to dig any further so to keep suspicion down he said he was going to see Scott. 

He wasn’t of course, instead he drove to the Lacrosse field and sat in the bleachers. The urge to pull the blade across his skin again was demanding, but he couldn’t do it here. The pack would smell his blood eventually, and that would be a problem for him. 

In the confines of his Jeep, Stiles took the pleasure of dragging another line through his skin, then replacing the bandage. He had opened the door briefly to pour peroxide over the blade when his phone buzzed. 

**Scott:  
Pack meeting in 10. Be there this time.**

It was the first text Stiles had gotten in weeks. He thought about not going, but he told his dad he was going to see Scott, so he might as well just go. 

By the time Stiles pulled up to the loft the fresh cut had started to dry and scab. He pulled his hoodie sleeve down a little further and shoved his hands into his pockets. Everyone was already there when he walked through the open loft door. 

His eyes scanned the pack quickly, only meeting eyes with a few people. Then he took up leaning against a pillar near the couch. Almost immediately Scott and Isaac launched into some conversation about a new supernatural issue in Beacon Hills. 

Honestly, Stiles wasn't listening. It was hard for him to focus being in the same room as everyone that had been so actively pushing him away. Scott’s voice was starting to grate on Stiles’ nerves. He was watching as Isaac and Scott interacted with Derek and Kira, realizing that Scott has replaced him with Isaac and Kira. It was a new low. He let out a shaky breath, not wanting to be in that room anymore. 

“Uh guys, I gotta get going…. Update me later.” His voice was still shaky but the only one that looked in his direction was Derek. 

_Don't worry, he hates you anyway._

Stiles turned and walked away even though the look on Derek’s face intrigued him. 

It didn't take him long to get home, and to his surprise his dad wasn’t home. The house was quiet and Stiles was okay with that. He could go to his room and not have to explain what happened at Scott's or an update with the pack because he had nothing. Not even a supernatural clue to give his dad. 

Stiles laid on his bed for hours until his dad called. Telling him he would be late tonight and not to wait up for him. 

_I'll be up anyways._

It was then that he realized that the pack hadn't updated him on anything. They were probably happy he was gone. 

_Maybe it would be better if I was gone._

Tonight continued like any other, sleepless Stiles. He pretended to be asleep when his dad poked his head in at 4 am, but he never really slept. 

As the days grew on he didn’t hear anything from the pack, but he didn’t expect to. What he did expect was to be tired, even exhausted from no sleep. But the cutting brought warmth and woke him up. He assumed he was no longer in the pack, he was useless and human anyway. He just got in the way. Stiles was in the bathroom with his new best friend bringing warmth to his skin when his father yelled from downstairs. 

“STILES?!” causing him to jump. The blade skittering somewhere behind the toilet. 

“shit. YEAH, COMING DAD!” quickly cleaning up and running down the stairs. 

When the teen turned the corner into the living room he saw his father slumped in his chair. 

“D-Dad are you okay?” John shifted and looked up at him. 

“I’m fine, but your uncle Tracy isn't. He had a stroke, and apparently we are the only living relatives. They need a power of attorney, so I have to go to Ohio for a few weeks.” 

His father sounded exhausted and anxious. Stiles stepped into his father, hugging him. 

“You go. I don't need to be there. It will be less stress if I'm here. I can stay with Scott.” He was lying, but it seemed to settle John. Who nodded and pulled his son back in for a hug. He would be leaving in a few hours. 

Once John left, Stiles headed out with a bottle of Jack. He parked in the lot behind the Lacrosse field, and as he was getting out of the Jeep three cars surrounded him. Large men jumped out grabbing him, pushing him to the Jeep. 

“Where is Argent?” the man’s meaty hands held Stiles by the collar of his hoodie slamming him into the Jeep when he didn’t answer. 

“We know you know. Argent is missing and your pack did it!” 

_What the hell._

Stiles knew that his pack wouldn’t hurt Argent, not with everything that had happened. He became pack, but when he thought about it he hadn’t heard anything about Argent at the pack meeting. 

“I… I don’t know.” He muttered. 

“Bullshit!” A meaty fist slammed into his cheek bone. 

_Fuck!_

The men surrounding them mumbled something, but he couldn’t hear them. The punches rained down on Stiles’ face, they released him before anything broke but he felt the blood trickle from his nose. He didn’t need to watch them leave to know what they were gone, but he heard one yell. 

“This is a message!” 

_Shit it is like Gerard all over again._

Stiles sighs heavily and spits out a little bit of blood. He wasn’t going to let this stop him from his original plan. If anything the pain that he was feeling was anchoring him to reality. Walking back to the door of his Jeep he pulled out the bottle of Jack, slammed the door and headed for the bleachers. 

No one was there this time of night, and it was nice. It gave him the privacy to drink and be alone with no one noticing. As he drank he watched the sun sink and finally disappear, there was no point to get drunk, he was just working a nice buzz. Letting his body slump down to the bleacher he rolled so he was staring up at the sky, letting his arms and legs go limp. 

There was no use in fighting it, so Stiles let himself fall into his usual trance. Just staring at the sky, the only movement of his body was shallow breathing and the occasional blink. He blocked out the rest of the world, not hearing the traffic on the streets nearby, losing track of time. Until he heard yelling, that was getting closer. 

“...iles! STILES!” 

_Derek? Nope, can’t be._

He pushed the thought away. Why would Derek be yelling for him. Then he felt the vibration of the metal bleachers as someone ran up them. Firm hands gripped his shirt and pulled him upright. The movement was so quick his head lolled, and his vision blurred. 

“Stiles, hey… come on buddy.” 

That seemed to be the moment he snapped out of it, pulling away from the dark figure in front of him, scrambling away. The figure didn’t follow, it just stood there. When his eyes adjusted he recognized the leather clad form of Derek standing rigid to his right. Sitting back down, Stiles decided not to look at him. 

“What?” The words barely came out, but he knew Derek heard them. 

_Damn wolfy hearing._

Derek didn’t say anything, but Stiles was starting to get restless. 

“Why are you here Derek?” There was a snort. “That isn’t an answer.” 

Stiles was exasperated at this point, just wanting to be left alone. He rubbed his face, wincing at the pain on the left side of his face. 

“What was that?” Stiles looked at Derek. 

“What was what?” Derek was suddenly right in front of him, grabbing his chin with a gentleness that was weird for Derek. Stiles’ eyes met Derek’s red glowing orbs and he tore his face from the wolf’s hands. 

“Stiles, what the hell happened to you?” There was a brief pause. 

“How did you find me Derek?” 

He watched as the wolf’s facial expression changed. 

“I was out in the woods, and I could smell your blood. Then I saw you laying there.” 

Stiles thought he detected a hint of panic in Derek’s voice, but he was sure that was just for his benefit. He knew the wolf hated him.

“Figures. I did spit it out on the freaking asphalt.” 

There was a lack of emotion to his voice, which Derek seemed to catch.

“Stiles, why do you look like that? Why were you spitting up blood?” 

All Stiles did was look at Derek, meeting his stare. He didn’t have to say a word, but his brow knit together when he saw that there had been panic crossing Derek’s face. 

_Interesting._

“Well, I am going to go… I need to get the old man’s booze back before he gets home.” 

Stiles stood and started walking to the Jeep, it was only a matter of seconds before Derek grabbed his arm. 

“You are not driving.” Stiles scoffed. He wasn’t drunk, he would be fine. 

“I’m fine.” He intended for there to be a little more force to his voice, but there wasn’t any. 

“Keys. Now.” 

Stiles conceded, not wanting to be slammed against something else tonight. 

They drove in silence. Stiles kept looking out the windshield, not wanting to look at Derek, but he could see Derek looking at him through the corner of his vision. He felt oddly calm considering he was in the presence of someone who hated him more than anyone he had ever met.

Once they pulled into the driveway Stiles got out of the car and headed to the door. It appeared that Derek wasn’t going to leave right away, so Stiles let him follow him into the house. When he plopped down on his bed, Stiles just stared at the floor. He didn’t have much to say to Derek, but it was apparent that the sourwolf have lots to say, but he didn’t. Absent mindedly Stiles rubbed his face again, wincing. 

“Damnit.” 

He sighed. His face hurt, but it wasn’t the hurt that he liked, the hurt that he wanted. This feeling was too much like the radiating ache he felt constantly. Derek disappeared for a moment, actually longer than Stiles expected. He thought that maybe the wolf had left. Then he heard a growl as the leather figure once again appeared in the room. 

“What?” 

Stiles could see some kind of emotion vibrating through Derek, but he couldn’t figure it out. Suddenly Derek stood in front of him holding something small in his hands. When Stiles’ eyes focused on the object his heart sped up. Faster than it had in awhile, panic bloomed in his stomach. 

_Fuck._

Stiles didn’t know what to do, how to respond, so sarcasm took over. 

“Cut myself shaving.” 

It was a dumb excuse, he knew that Derek probably saw the regular razor on his counter. Stiles barely moved as Derek grabbed his left arm, pulling back the sleeve and tearing the bandage from his skin. The skin under Derek’s fingers burned with his heat. Stiles looked down seeing black lines start to run up Derek’s arm. He ripped his arm away, and Derek tried to grab him again. Stiles lost control of his tongue. 

“What are you doing to do Derek? Huh?” He was now standing, yelling in Derek’s face. “You going to slam me against the wall for the thousandth time and threaten to kill me so I don’t do it myself? Or tell me how weak I am? How I am not strong enough to be in _your_ pack? Or that I am useless? It is nothing I don’t already know.” 

Stiles didn’t even bother to cover his arm again, but he noticed that Derek was staring at it with this weird look in his eyes. It wasn’t until Derek spoke that Stiles figured out what that look was from. It was actual concern. 

“Stiles…” 

His voice was barely audible. It shocked Stiles when he heard the tone. Then his eyes met Derek’s. They weren’t red, they weren’t even glowing. 

“What?” 

This time his voice was shaky, and so quiet that he knew only Derek would have heard him. 

“Some of those are scarred over.” Stiles laughed a little. 

_I know, I was there._

“Stiles, this isn’t funny.” 

His eyes were almost pleading with Stiles to say something. Feeling self conscious about it, Stiles pulled his sleeve down. 

“I’m fine.” That was all he could get out. 

“Bullshit!” Derek yelled, “I felt your pain. That isn’t nothing Stiles.” 

Finally sitting back on the bed, Stiles looked back up at Derek. 

“Why do you even care? You hate me, I’m obnoxious… so why is it that you are looking at me like that? Why do you care Derek?” 

There was silence. Stiles could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, so he was sure Derek was keeping track of it as well. It felt like hours of silence, even though it was mere seconds. 

“You’re… Stiles, you are important.” 

_Right, Alpha’s punching bag._

Stiles didn’t have anything to say to that. He knew it wasn’t true so he wasn’t going to address it. 

“Well, now that you know, I would prefer it if you kept this a secret.” 

Derek almost seemed offended. 

“Why?” 

The glare was now back across Derek’s face, good old sourwolf here to stay. 

“Because, I have been doing a pretty good job of keeping it under control, and it isn’t anyone else's business. Plus no one has noticed that something is wrong with me and I would like it to stay that way since everything is going better that way.” 

“I noticed.” 

There was sincerity in Derek’s voice, that once again caught Stiles off guard. 

“At the pack meeting, you smelled… wrong.” Stiles laughed again. 

“Wrong? How does one smell wrong? Shouldn’t I always smell wrong to you?” 

Derek sighed heavily, he wasn’t one for explaining himself, but he was going to have to this time. If there was any hope for Stiles, Derek would have to explain. 

“You didn’t smell right because I didn’t smell adderall, not even a hint that you had taken it in weeks yet you stood there completely still. Didn’t say a word. Then there was this… dull ache smell. I still smell it. It has been driving me insane. Then when we were in the Jeep all I could smell was this dark smell. Like the smell a fog machine makes. Stiles, that smell is depression.” 

Stiles just sat there, he really had nothing to say this time. If Derek could smell all of that then why hadn’t anyone else smelt it? Why didn’t Scott notice, even with Kira being a distraction, how could he not notice. He felt the hurt bloom in his chest, trying to suppress it with Derek still staring at him. In an attempt to get Derek mad enough to leave, Stiles stood. 

“Well since you hate me, thanks for the observation that I am still just as dumb as I was before trying to hide anything or keep anything private. So, I will be taking that little item there, and you can go.” 

Derek just looked at Stiles as if to say that there was no way in hell he would be leaving, or giving the blade back. Stiles was okay with the last part, since he had a little box in the bathroom that Derek didn’t know about. 

“I will only leave if you promise me something.” 

Derek’s voice was steady, but quiet. 

_This is interesting._

“That you will talk to me. Stiles we may not get along but that doesn’t mean you aren’t pack. I need to know about these things, I need to know if a pack mate needs help.” 

He placed his large hand on Stiles’ shoulder. It was all the teen could do to not lean into the warmth, realizing he was still as cold as ever. 

“Okay.” 

His voice filled with defeat, then Derek removed his hand. Stiles suddenly missed the contact, it surprised him when he had the urge to grab Derek’s hand to feel the warmth again. 

“I’m serious, anytime, anywhere. Just text me or call.” 

Stiles just nodded. He didn’t have the energy anymore to keep this up, his buzz was all but a dull ache behind his eyes. When Derek left, Stiles felt emptier. He wasn’t sure why but he actually missed having the sourwolf standing in his room. 

The sudden lost of warmth, and company had Stiles needing again. He knew Derek had pocketed the blade but he walked to the bathroom and pulled another from the box. He relished in the warmth that the blade brought him, he knew he promised Derek he would talk to him, but how much more needy could he be, to text him after he left.


	2. Things can be mended.

Stiles hadn’t seen Derek since the night he stayed with him. He managed to keep busy with the current rash of break in’s but there was still the strong urge to cut. Stiles gave in once, and that was today. He knew he should have texted Derek, but with how awkward it was last week he didn’t feel like talking to him. As he sat on the floor of the bathroom watching the blood trickle out of the cut he felt the warmth that he had been missing. 

_Why did I stop?_

Suddenly regretting ever promising Derek he would talk to him. With Derek’s admittance that there was a stronger connection between the two of them than just pack, Stiles didn’t know what to think or even how to feel about him. He was pulled out of the trance he managed to fall into when his phone buzzed on the floor next to him. It was Derek. 

**Derek:  
Pack meeting in an hour. Come early.**

With a sigh the teen got up from the floor and cleaned himself up. Slathering Neosporin over the cut and placing a bandage over it. He could get to Derek’s loft in 20 minutes, so he had to leave now. The thought of talking to Derek after the other night made Stiles anxious. He didn’t know what he was going to say to him, or even why he wanted him to be there early. The door was open when Stiles got to the loft. He knocked on the open door and timidly stepped into the loft, walking to the middle of the living room. 

“Derek?” 

His voice was a little weaker than he wanted it to be, and his heart was hammering in his chest. Derek came around the corner, pulling his sleeves up to his elbows. He didn’t say anything, he just looked at Stiles. He had the same look as the other night, which didn’t help Stiles and his heartbeat. Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest in an attempt to fold in on himself, staring at the floor. He couldn’t look at Derek anymore, not while he was staring at him with this odd look. 

“Are you okay?” 

When Stiles looked up Derek was standing right in front of him, brows knit together searching Stiles’ face. 

“Me? I’m fine, perfectly a-okay…” 

The words came out too fast and too clipped. It was a lie and they both knew it. In an attempt to calm himself down Stiles stepped away and moved his arms. When he looked back to Derek he watched as the wolf’s nose flared. 

_Shit. The neosporin._

His now glowing red eyes flicked to Stiles’ left wrist, but he didn’t make any movements. The look of hurt was back in Derek’s eyes, but the red glow didn’t sooth Stiles’ nerves at all. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Isaac shout something as he walked in. 

“Threatening Stiles again are we? What did I miss?” 

There was an excitement to his voice. 

“Shut up. You sound like a whiny puppy.” 

The snark coming from Stiles made Isaac’s smile widen, but Stiles didn’t care. He just took his place leaning on the post. The rest of the pack filled in and the meeting got started. Stiles let them know about what Parrish found at all the break in’s which didn’t seem to surprise Derek, but it was a shock to everyone else. He forgot that they didn’t know about Stiles being attacked by the hunters, and he wasn’t about to fill them in. 

“They are raiding a warehouse tonight. Essentially they are looking for me. I am not going to let them stumble upon the loft. So we are going to them.” 

Stiles felt the rush of blood in his ears, he barely heard Derek’s next words. 

“Stiles is going to stay out of it.”

He wanted to argue, but he knew he could just get yelled at. Instead he looked at everyone else's expressions and realized that they were happy with him not being there. Solidifying his feeling that he is not wanted in the pack. He spent the rest of the pack meeting quiet, trying to quell his feeling of complete and utter uselessness. 

As soon as the meeting ended Stiles left. He didn’t want to stay and talk to Derek, or argue about not going, or even hear his explanation. It was clear that whatever had happened when Stiles woke up the other night was causing Derek to remove him from the pack. Stiles sat in his Jeep for a moment before driving away, thinking about how if he is no longer in the pack, then there should be no reason for Derek to care. A tear slipped from Stiles’ eyes and fell down, staining his pants. 

_When did I start caring so much about Derek?_

With a deep breath Stiles started the Jeep and drove home. 

\--------

Once John had called to check in, Stiles climbed into the Jeep and drove to the warehouse. He was going to prove that the pack needed him, and he couldn’t let Derek just kick him out of the pack. When Stiles got there he could hear the commotion, and he jumped into action running into the warehouse. 

The scene he stumbled into was something he wasn’t expecting. Two hunters lay bloody in the corner, surrounded by the remaining hunters. The pack was holding their own, but he didn’t see Derek. A small burst of panic hit him, he didn’t know if he could handle Derek dying, and that was a surprise for him. Stiles kept looking, hoping to see the Alpha. 

Then his vision was swimming, someone had grabbed him from behind and pulled him into a dark empty hallway. His eyes focused on two red orbs that bore into him. The look on Derek’s face was pure anger. 

“Leave.” It was a growl from Derek’s throat. 

“I…” Derek slammed him to the wall again. 

“Get out, NOW!” 

The roar shook Stiles. He saw no trace of the Derek that stayed with him, that made him promise to talk to him. All he saw the was the same old Alpha, who threatened to rip his throat out. Derek let go of him when there was a wounded cry from the other room. The wolf dashed away to find the source of the cry. Stiles just stood there in silence until he willed his body to walk out of the warehouse and get into the jeep.

Stiles hadn’t expected to hear from Derek, or any of the pack after that. Scott hadn’t talked to him since school ended. It was two weeks into summer, and Stiles hated every moment of it. It had been three days since the warehouse incident and his phone lay on the nightstand. He eventually had just turned it off. 

The Sheriff would see him for dinner each night at the station, and breakfast in the morning so he didn’t need to have his phone on for his dad. He was cutting himself again, trying to find the warmth, and the distraction from how much it hurt that Derek didn’t want him in the pack, and that Scott had forgotten about him all together. 

In an attempt to get out of the house Stiles drove around in his Jeep until he found himself at the preserve, near the old Hale Mansion. Without thinking he got out of the Jeep and walked into the shell of a house. Memories flashed by him of being with the pack, and being with Scott. It hadn’t truly hit him until now that he had lost his best friend, his brother. 

Now with Derek hating him again after telling him otherwise when he was broken and hurting made him realize that he was truly and utterly alone. Sure he had his dad, but he needed someone. 

_The pack doesn’t want you. No one does. I’m useless, and it is better if I’m gone._

Stiles felt the panic start, this time it wasn’t a slow ache turning into panic. It was a white, hot flash. He couldn’t breath and the world was shaking around him. After sliding to the floor against the side of the stairs he reached for the blade he kept in his back pocket. This had worked before. This had taken him out of his panic just enough to get ahold of himself and calm down, he had to try again. 

His hands were shaking violently and when he cut into his skin he didn’t feel the relief he was hoping for, so he cut again, dragging the blade hard against his skin. The razor fell to the ground and he looked at his arm, trying to grasp at anything to calm him, but his body just shook. The blood was pooling on the ground next to him, and wasn’t slowing. 

_F...Fuck._

Something was wrong. Stiles reached for his phone with his other hand, turning it on he hit Derek’s contact.

“Stiles, where the fuck…” Stiles cut him off. 

“D….D..Derek..” Tears were streaming down his face. 

“Stiles? What’s wrong?” He could hear panic in the wolf’s voice. 

“I.. I think… I messed u-up.” 

His voice stuttering as he tried to breathe. There was darkness creeping at the corners of his vision, already blurred with tears. 

“Stiles what did you do? Where are you?!” There was a few gasps of air from Stiles as he tried to catch his breath. When he spoke again his voice was broken and full of tears. 

“I’m sorry… I.. I know you hate me… But… I’m… s..orry.. D...Der..” 

The phone dropped from Stiles’ hand as he let the darkness take him over.

\---

When Derek heard the last words that Stiles spoke, he jumped into a panic. He had been looking for Stiles, and trying to call him but there was never any answer. Derek didn’t have much time, he had to find Stiles but he didn’t know where to look. Taking a chance he headed to the Lacrosse field, but the teen wasn’t there. 

He was pulling away towards his loft when he caught Stiles’ sent near the woods. Remembering the sound of the phone falling from the his hands he knew he had to be in some sort of structure, but what was out in the woods? Then it hit him. Stiles was in the mansion. 

It was only a matter of seconds before he was running up the steps of the burnt out home. The smell of copper hit his nose and it was all he could do to keep his wolf at bay. The door flew off the henges and his glowing eyes fell on Stiles, a small pool of blood at his leg, and the teen seemed lifeless. That was until Derek heard the faint flutter of his heart. Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm to apply pressure to the cuts hoping to stop the bleeding before he lost much more, which was less than Derek had expected when he first caught the scent. 

When the pressure was applied Stiles’ body went limp, his head lolled to the side and Derek saw his eyes roll to the back of his head. 

“No! Stiles, you need to wake up! Don’t do this!” 

He had to get him out of here. This couldn’t happen here. Derek could not face the thought of losing his pack mate, his mate in the same place he lost his family. Taking the teen into his arms he carried him out and into the Camaro. He wasn’t bleeding as much anymore, so the wound wasn’t fatal, but he could smell the panic on Stiles. 

Derek couldn’t take him back home, the Sheriff would ask too many questions if he was home, and the hospital would raise more questions. So he headed for the loft. Derek carried Stiles’ limp body up to the loft and locked the door behind them. 

Laying the teen on the couch he ran for the first aid kit, and then cleaned up Stiles’ arm, and bandaging it. Stiles was shaking. His whole body was tremoring on the couch but this time his skin wasn’t cold. 

“Stiles. It’s okay. You are okay.” 

Derek’s voice was quiet, his best attempt to sooth him. 

“Please…” Stiles voice was quiet, but he wasn’t awake. “Let me.. die..” 

Those three words sent a sharp pain into Derek, but nothing compared to the next words that lifelessly fell from Stiles’ lips. 

“...please.. Derek.. just.. kill me.” 

The way Stiles’ voice broke and cracked when Derek’s name was spoken made the wolf almost throw up. 

“No.” 

Derek’s voice was weak. This time there was no response from Stiles, just his steadily growing heartbeat and his breathing.

While Derek looked at Stiles sleeping body, he took in the bruised circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin in contrast to how dark his hair appeared. He was a little smaller, but he still had maintained the muscle from Lacrosse. This kid was strong, how did he break down to this. How did it come to this. Thoughts streamed through Derek’s mind, coming back to what Stiles had said when he first found out about his self harm. 

“What are you going to do, slam me against the wall and threaten to kill me again so I don’t do it to myself?” 

His heart sunk, he had done this.

 

Stiles woke gasping for air, sucking the oxygen to his lungs as he tried to orient himself. He was not in the same place he remembered being. When his eyes steadied he found himself in Derek’s loft, but Derek was not in sight. The warm ache on his wrist told him that he had hurt himself again, but apparently not bad enough to do too much damage. Anxiety prickled at Stiles’ skin when he remembered everything that had happened. Derek must have found him, cleaned him up and then left him in the loft. 

_You are pathetic._

The hurt was deep, but he wanted more. Stiles tore away the bandage, knowing that Derek would have taken the razor or left it at the mansion, he started to pick at the now scabbing wound.

“Stiles stop!” 

Derek had re-entered the room, having caught the scent of anxiety and Stiles’ blood. The teen’s fingers froze, pain crushed through him realizing that Derek didn’t leave him this time. He couldn’t look at the wolf. The pain, and anxiety burst through Stiles, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Why? Why do you care? You don’t want me, not in your pack… not at all. So what is the point?” 

Derek closed the gap between him and the teen, just standing in front of him. 

“I care because you are important, I care about you, so stop!” Stiles took a shaky breath. 

“I’m alone, Derek. So it doesn’t matter.” 

“Yes it does. It matters. So much.” 

Derek’s voice was firm. There was a little bit of anger in his voice, and Stiles picked up on it. Standing to match the Alpha in front of him. 

“Well it doesn’t seem like it. How can I stop, huh? I have no one but my dad, and I barely have him. So what is the fucking point Derek?!” 

Derek was getting angry again. 

“You promised me!” 

Stiles started to laugh. 

“Oh yeah a promise from someone who decided not to talk to me all of the sudden. I have another goddamned nightmare, wake up to you pulling me out of it. The first time someone has pulled me from a nightmare in _months_ , and then you just stare at me, then leave without saying a word. I actually thought I might be getting better, that it would be okay. But then you said I wasn’t pack, and that I am practically useless. I tried to help then I get slammed into a wall and told to leave. What else am I supposed to think?” 

Tears were now running down Stiles’ face. Letting any emotion he had felt come full force to the surface. His whiskey colored eyes searched Derek’s for something, until he found it. It was panic.

“I have been trying to call you, and text you. I wanted to talk to you. Hell I was looking for you today. Stiles.. I didn’t know what to say to you because… your nightmare… do you remember it?” 

Stiles shook his head, he actually didn’t remember this one. 

“Well you asked me to kill you. Practically begged for it. I had to wake you up when you started screaming for me to kill you. Then… then just now… when you were unconscious you did it again. You asked me to kill you, and to let you die.” 

Stiles was blindsided. He didn’t remember any of it, but it explains the look on Derek’s face. The stare, the awkward silence. 

“D-Derek…” He watched as the wolf tensed in front of him, he thought his muscles might actually snap. 

“Stiles, please… don’t.” 

How could he not, Derek had essentially told him that he was his mate, and then he begged him to kill him in his sleep. He was trying to think of something to say, but Derek started talking first. 

“When I got to you… I… I thought you were going to die. I couldn’t let you die, not there. Not where I had lost my family. But… the way. The way you said my name. Jesus Stiles don’t ever say my name like that again. I felt like I was dying.” 

Stiles hadn’t realized what he had almost done, and the weight of it hit him. He almost killed himself in the same place Derek’s entire family died. 

“I’m sorry.” His words almost a whisper. “I.. uhm. You probably want me to go.” 

There was silence. Stiles had to make this right somehow, even though he knew that hurting himself wasn’t going to fix the problem. Taking a huge chance, that he could be misreading this whole thing, he stepped into Derek. Pressing his lips to the wolf’s. At first Derek didn’t respond but it was only a matter of seconds before his lips were moving against Stiles’. When Derek pulled away he looked down at Stiles, who couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. 

“What was that?” 

_Great._

“Well, I just… I thought you said. I don’t know. I panicked okay. I want to fix this but I know that my usual way of fixing it is only going to make it worse.” 

Derek didn’t answer him, but he stood there for a moment, breathing in Stiles’ scent. He didn’t smell like he should, but they could work on it. Hopefully, if Stiles would let them. 

“Say something… please.” 

Derek was pulled out of his thoughts when Stiles spoke. 

“Promise me.” Stiles finally looked up at him. “Promise that you are going to try and get better.” Stiles sighed. 

“Promise you won’t leave me.” 

Derek pulled Stiles into a hug, squeezing him tightly. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again. Okay.”

“I promise.” 

“Me too.”


End file.
